


Welcome home

by hannibalnuxvoxmica



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nigel is a sucker for dogs, Puppies, They Make It Work, and Adam is a sucker for Nigel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 06:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7424461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalnuxvoxmica/pseuds/hannibalnuxvoxmica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Adam loves their usual.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Adam loves consistency. For things to be exactly the same as they always are.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Which is why, understandably, his stomach tenses as Nigel walks through the door.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nigel, why is there a dog under your arm?”</em>
</p><p> Nigel brings home a puppy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome home

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the #SpacedogsSummer collection that I _finally_ finished. A great opportunity to test my Nigel/Adam writing skills that I couldn't pass up!
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Adam smiles as he hears the lock turn. He is sitting cross-legged, hunched over his desk with his back turned to the door. It is 6:28, around the usual time that Nigel arrives home after being called away by whatever work is inconveniencing him with.

Someone didn’t pay. The count isn’t right. The shipment was off by a day.

Living with Adam had infectiously spread his care for routine and schedules to Nigel, and Adam doesn’t hide that he loves it.

Nigel rarely leaves their apartment. Not unless Adam is accompanying him does he go willingly. Or in the case that Adam is leaving and Nigel is simply following. Like to the museum on Thursdays, or to the store when they’re out of cereal and milk. Although, to be fair, Nigel is the only one who does the shopping anymore. As well as all the other humdrum responsibilities that Adam hates and finds incredibly draining.

Nigel explained his reasoning for this once, telling Adam that he prefers him to reserve his energy for more recreational activities, and then swept him off his feet and into bed before Adam could question him further.

Nigel wasn’t lying, but Adam had a feeling that there was more to it. When he was sick for a week with the flu, Nigel was on his feet constantly, sprinting from pharmacy to pharmacy, from the bedroom to the kitchen to the living room and back to the bedroom, back and forth, just to bring Adam more soup, or a different book because the last one he brought wasn’t the one he wanted, or because his water was gone and he needed it refilled but not with water from the tap because that tastes like chlorine, and with only enough ice to make it chilled but not freezing because he won’t drink it if it’s too cold.

Nigel’s motivation for this, as well as everything else, wasn’t and isn’t sourced from selfishness.

Nigel just likes to take care of him.

Nigel doesn’t see him as a burden, as he had expected after years of being told, in one way or another, just that. Nigel is patient and understanding even when it’s hard to be.

When it _really_   matters.

Adam springs out of his chair, excited that their evening can proceed as usual.

Adam loves their usual.

Adam loves consistency. For things to be exactly the same as they always are.

Which is why, understandably, his stomach tenses as Nigel walks through the door, entering into view. Why his mouth and voice lag behind where they usually are by this point, knowing the script by heart, the welcoming greeting he gives so warmly and sincerely. A kiss before being snared tightly into a hug…

“Nigel, why is there a dog under your arm?”

Nigel kicks the door shut. “Because he’s fucking ours now, darling.”

Adam stares wide-eyed at the creature nestled in Nigel’s arms. He is young. Only a puppy. Three months at most, Adam reasons somewhere in the blur of his thoughts. His coat is long and shiny, a mix of black and white. His ears droop and flop, one determinedly more than the other, and his tongue hangs out of his mouth a prefect pink.

It is evident Nigel is already in love.

“Look at him, Adam. He’s fucking _perfect_. Perfect size, perfect shape, perfect fucking temperament. So healthy too-”

“Nigel.”

“We don’t have to worry about him being fucking sick either like with those poor goddamn rescues all the time-“

“ _Nigel_.”

“And look! He already fucking loves me, I’m sure he’ll have no problem fitting in-“

“Nigel!” Adam yells, his voice shaky. It’s finally enough for Nigel to hear him.

“You’re talking but you’re not explaining. I need you to explain what is going on because I don’t understand and this is different and if you don’t explain then I can’t understand.” His words burst from him. He is nothing but rigid posture and balled fists, heaving air in and out of his lungs as he stands frozen in the middle of the room.

“Okay, okay,” Nigel says immediately. He walks to Adam and with his free hand lightly touches his shoulder. Something to ground him.

“I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you like that, it’s just, well, I was in a bit of a rush.” Nigel explains.

“There’s this fuckers house I walk past every time I go out, right? Sometimes he’s out mowing the fucking lawn, sometimes he’s fucking gardening like what? He cares so goddamn much? And he’s always so fucking pretentious, and gives me the eye every time I walk past-”

“Nigel, what does this have to do with the dog?” Adam interjects.

“Sorry, sorry. Getting there.” He apologizes. “So anyway, what do I see fucking today while I’m out?” With a jut of his neck, Nigel gestures to the puppy currently snuggled in the crook of his arm. “I see _him,_ fucking tied up out front, nothing but a rope and collar on, in the blaring fucking mid-day sun.”

Adams looks at Nigel, lips parted.

“And when I’m coming back, he’s still fucking _there_. For what? Six fucking hours I was gone?”

“You stole him.” Adam says blankly, unaffected.

“No,” Nigel corrects, “I didn’t _steal_ him, I fucking _rescued_ him. You know, like how you would from one of those -what do you call them- fucking sad dog motels where they keep them in little cages-“

“Animal shelters?”

“Yeah, those.” Nigel says, nodding. “It’s exactly the same, Adam. Usually the fucking shelter has to be the one to intervene and bring the dog to them, then wait for some fucker to come adopt it. I just cut out the middle man, that’s all.”

Adam processes the information as best he can. He almost points out the illegality of the issue before realizing the irony of it. Adam knows that there is a special place in Nigel’s heart for dogs. He’s never seen him be buttered up faster than when interacting with a dog. Bigger, fluffier dogs in particular. He likes to point them out to Adam whenever they’re out in public, but it’s only ever appreciation from afar, along with intoned threats that the owners never hear, detailing what he would do to them if he found them mistreating their pet.

Adam looks at the small thing bundled in Nigel’s arms, somehow asleep. Not at all distressed. Not all at seeming to be uncomfortable despite being in a new place with new people, far away from his home.

Maybe he hated it there. Maybe he was glad when Nigel scooped him up and drove him away.

The little thing yawns, stretching its mouth open as far as it can go, and then rests his head back into the crook of Nigel’s arm. Maybe, if he could speak, he would thank the both of them.

But Adam still feels an unsteadiness as he looks at him.

Puppies require dedication. Time and effort and loss of sleep. Puppies require house-training. They require socialization. They need play and to be trained how to walk on a leash, how to sit, stay, lie down, and beg. Already in his mind is a list forming of all the things that puppies need. Things that they don’t have. That they will have to buy and buy quickly.

Dog food, dog treats, dog bowls, a dog bed, chew toys, shampoos, brushes, a leash…

“Nigel,” Adam finally chimes in, “how will this work? And what about the previous owner?”

“What about him?”

“Well, what if he wants his dog back?

Nigel shakes his head, his eyes darkened. “That fucker is never gonna see him again.”

Nigel scratches the puppy between the ears, holding him closer protectively at the idea of giving him back, but then stepping closer with outstretched arms.

“Just hold him,” Nigel instructs, “and then tell me that you could stand to give him up.”

Adam reluctantly reaches out to pet him. Adam has nothing against dogs. He harbors no animosity toward the species at all. But pets have never been a part of his life. Never as a child or as an adult has he owned _any_ kind of companion animal. Not even a cat, though he has been told by others many times that a cat may fit his personality.

He takes him in his arms somewhat awkwardly, and with his free hand scratches the top of his head. Immediately, his eyes dart to Nigel.

“There’s a bump here, on the top of his skull.” Adam points out worriedly. “Is there something wrong with him?”

“No, most dogs have that, actually.” Nigel says, smiling. “It’s normal.”

Adam calms considerably, holding him closer to his body, petting and feeling and inspecting.

He is _soft_. So incredibly plush and clean. His paws are huge, he notices, and Adam knows this means he will grow to be big. Bigger dogs require more food. More space. Do they require more exercise? It isn’t true of humans, but Adam can’t remember if it’s true of dogs. He can’t remember if he ever knew at all, but instead of obsessing he lets the thought go almost immediately.

His chest relaxes, unfurling from the knot it became when Nigel walked through the door. His heartbeat slows to a normal pace, along with his breathing.

“See?” Nigel says, “I knew you’d fucking love him.”

Nigel strokes along his back as Adam holds him.

Already is Nigel serious, committed, that it would break his heart to have to say goodbye. For being so tough, so brash, Nigel is incredibly soft for the things and people he loves.

“I was thinking of names on the way home,” Nigel begins, bashfully, “and I thought… maybe Orion would work. You know, after the planet?”

Nigel looks at Adam and then away, grinning. “It could be Ori for short.”

Adam blinks.

Orion isn’t a planet.

It’s a constellation.

Adam shakes his head, closing his lips that had opened in protest.

It doesn’t matter.

He looks down at the sleepy ball of fluff in his arms. He thinks of how warm his chest and arms feel from holding the puppy snug against him. He thinks of today and tomorrow and he thinks of Nigel, smiling saccharine up to his ears.

“We can keep him.” Adam says.

Nigel’s breathing halts as he hears it. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Adam responds again, just as certain.

Immediately he is lurched forward as strong hands grasp his face and pull him into a kiss, tasting of tobacco and of Nigel and home. A kiss they normally would have shared minutes ago.

Adam knows nothing about dogs.

Not what they should eat or how to train them or how much exercise they will need to be happy.

But Nigel does.

And he trusts Nigel.

Adam makes a pleased sound as they kiss, high and sweet. Ori wiggles when they press together, obviously woken and disturbed by his parent’s rude display of affection.

“He’s going to pee on everything.” Adam says as they part for breath. “And I won’t clean it up when he does.”

Nigel hums in agreement, kissing him again.

“And I won’t bathe him or take him for walks when it’s cold, unless you’re there to hold the leash so I can have my hands in my pockets.”

Again, a hum rumbles from Nigel.

“And he can’t sleep on the bed or else he’ll get hair everywhere.”

“We can agree on that later.” Nigel amends. Ori finally wriggles enough that Adam sets him down. He stabilizes himself and sniffs at the ground, his little legs carrying immediately from where he was put.

He will be a handful when he’s bigger.

“We need food for him.” Adam says, pulling away, “And water and a leash. We don’t have any of those things.”

“I’ll get them.”

“We need them soon.”

Nigel moves away with a sigh. “I’ll get them soon, then.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he makes certain his keys are still there, then makes for the door.

“Don’t take long,” Adam tells him before he leaves, “it’s already late.”

Nigel smiles at him lovingly, assuring him that he will be as fast as fucking possible before closing the door.

Enamored with the wooden leg of one of their dining chairs, Ori sits splayed on the floor, indenting little puncture marks along the bottom of the wood.

Adam walks and kneels beside him, pulling him into his lap to distract from his chewing. It works beautifully, and Adam is praised for his attempts, plastered with licks against his neck and face. Shifting, he sits in a V and cradles the pup in his lap, snug and secure.

He smiles, just as wide and warm as before.

“Welcome home, Orion.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I have always head-canoned that Nigel is a 100% dog person, like me, so I figured why not make it into a fic? The ending on this kept tripping me up because I didn't know how I wanted to write last half. But eventually it all came together :).
> 
>  
> 
> [You can find my Tumblr here.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hannibalnuxvomica)


End file.
